


A brothers love

by quietghost



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Broken Families, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Lots of Angst, Subject to change at author's will, future timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietghost/pseuds/quietghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Membrane family foundations had always been shaky. With the removal of one, everything had collapsed. Picking up the pieces and moving on is harder than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote the beginnings of this over a decade ago and always meant to come back to it! So I've rewritten the first (existing) chapter and will work on actually developing a plot for this thing! Hopefully it'll pick up as I go along! Critiques welcome!

"Project 63. Complete."

The automated voice is far too chipper. That's Dib's first thought as he forced exhausted eyelids to lift, face scrunching up with the effort. Lifting his head from the table comes next, and he flails weakly as a sheet comes with him, sticking to the drool and sweat from dozing off for a couple of minutes. Finally more or less vertical, a yawn threatens to pop his jaw loose and his legs wobbled threateningly as he hauled himself to his feet, shambling over to the console.

He feels like hell. So tired every blink hurts, so sleep deprived everything aches and creaks as he shuffles forward. A hand runs through unkempt hair, pushing it back out of his eyes impatiently, squinting behind over-sized glasses at the read out. Despite the discomfort of a body worked nearly to burn out there's a flutter in his stomach. This moment always brings the same rush of hope and excitement. Sometimes he thinks it the only true flash of colour in a world of monochromatic monotony. 

Stepping up to the stasis chamber is almost painfully good. His heart racing, breath shortened until he felt dizzy, swaying until he rested his palms against the glass surface and closed his eyes to gain his balance. Strange how even after 62 failures this moment still moved him so deeply. Adrenaline spiked and curled in his gut in a way that was simultaneously wonderful and painful. Straightening up, Dib allowed his fingers to trace the outline of her face wistfully before bringing his attention to the monitors. A strong heartbeat, cleanly defined as a rhythmic pulse on the screen, accompanied by a barely audible blip. Oxygen levels ideal, despite the stillness of her chest. Of course there was no need to breath in the oxygen and nutrient rich fluid, currently casting a peaceful, rippling glow in the dimness of the room. He hummed in satisfaction as a print out was produced with more in depth information, easily skim read. But as important as each detail was.. It was the heartbeat that still tugged at his attention, drawing his gaze with undeniably appeal. His fingers touched the screen over the pulse almost reverently. It's not quite the definition of life, there is no real brain activity, and wouldn't be until he forced a dangerously high voltage through the stasis chamber. But regardless.. like a powerful talisman it represents more than the sum of it's parts. It promises hope. It promises life.

Ah Gaz. He can barely wait to see her again.

Another glance to the side. He noted the minute differences in appearance to project 62. Longer hair, surprisingly. Longer limbs. Slightly more defined features. It suited her, he finally concluded, drawing his gaze away almost skittishly.  It makes her look more mature, an unintentional synthetic aging, as though she was more than a few weeks old. A hint of how Gaz might have been had she still been alive. 

If his gaze at her physical form was nervous and skittish, his thoughts over her death were infinitely more so. It was both a blessing and a curse that none of the clones retained their memories of that moment. He could, and had, with some tweaking, create an artificial history of memories that could be implanted. He'd once attempted to modify them to make her friendlier and less.. terrifying. Only once though. Her smiles and overt friendliness has set his skin crawling and she'd been considerably less emotionally stable. He hadn't been tempted again.

Occasionally though.. he wished they did. He wondered if the guilt might be lessened if he could just talk about it. Let her shout at him. Or force him into a nightmare world from which there was no wakening. Surely.. surely it could be no worse than the nightmares he suffered now? Bleak, soul destroying dreamscapes full of blame and guilt that led to him avoiding sleep like the proverbial plague. 

A different alarm trilled pleasantly, drawing the teens attention sluggishly. It was so hard to concentrate but as the reason for the alarm registered he brightened considerably. 

With a last lingering glance at project 63.. Gaz, he should start preparing himself to use her name.. he started heading upstairs out of the labs to the main house. Enthusiasm lent him the speed to trot up the stairs, exiting into the kitchen feeling more awake than he had in hours, despite working almost continuously through the night and morning. While this may have been routine, at least it wasn't unpleasantly routine, nor was it assured to be exhausting. Sometimes it was, but not always. After all, anything involving Zim could go either way. Thankfully, some things never changed.

Strolling into the lounge he stopped short at the holo screen hovering aimlessly in circles. His dad was mumbling to himself, looking distinctly dishevelled and annoyed, it was hard to tell behind the goggles but Dib fancied he could see his eyes darting around. In spite of all that it seemed he still had the capacity to recognise his son.

"Son! It's family night next week! Where is your sister? It's her turn to chose!"

Dib blinked slowly. Apparently today wasn't going to be one of his more coherent days. Not that there'd been many of those of late. It'd been 24 months since Gaz had died and if Dib had spent that time clinging to what thought of as his sanity by the skin of his teeth, his dad seemed to have given up the pretense entirely. Although he supposed that couldn't quite be true. He was still working after all. Honestly he doubted anything short of death itself would pry him away from his beloved work labs. Even that might not do it since he vaguely recalled his former works including the creation of an interactive AI representing him. Actually how would he know truly if he was addressing his father or a particularly intelligent AI? A cleared throat made him flinch, realising with a flush that not only had he not answered, he'd drifted off into his own thoughts for just long enough to be awkward. The professor stared at him as he hunched his shoulders and stared at the floor uncomfortably, trying to commit to either bringing up the truth or simply lying. It went against his integrity to lie but the arguments that resulted from his dad's inability.. or perhaps just unwillingness.. to come to terms with Gaz, were both distressing and required an energy he didn't think he had in him today.

"Well, don't forget to brush your teeth before you go to school son! And tell Gaz she needs to decide on the place by Thursday! I'll see you both then!"

Dib's eyes jerked up, dragging his gaze up as he began speaking again, a twitch flickering visibly just beside the goggles.  Huh. Well. At least he hadn't needed to choose. The screen darkened after a nod confirming he'd heard the instructions, drifting off with a faint crackle of static as the screen turned off. He dismissed the conversation almost immediately, he'd been home for nearly 2 years now and had this conversation multiple times. He never turned up. It'd been hard at first, it wasn't like any of them had been particularly close before but he felt like he'd lost them both. Gaz to death, dad to madness. Heh. And yet he was the 'poor insane' one.

He shrugged off his darkening thoughts as he perched on the sofa where he could hear Zim. He hadn't seen him for a while thought. They had.. disagreed over the necessity of his projects. For her safety he'd blocked access from the windows, added security to the doors and added additional guards to the front utilising a mix of human and irken technology. He still permitted Zim to approach the door but he'd never allow him into the building again. It was a serious pain in the neck rebuilding whatever he managed to damage or destroy when he did force his way in.

A muffled thud and soft rustle preceded the voice. Sounded like Zim had brought food again. It was quite endearing actually, he didn't quite grasp human nutritional needs but he would bring snacks at least once a week. Fun dip, candy bars, twinkies sometimes.. the sort of stuff he himself would consume. Sometimes he left a couple of 6 packs of poop soda outside. Dib did have a food synthesiser that took care of his nutritional requirements but it was pretty tasteless. 

"Hey! Hey! Dib-beast! Bighead! Hey! Hey! Hello?! Answer Zim!"

He couldn't help himself. Entirely without conscious thought his lips curled upwards, eyelids drooping as he slumped back against the couch pillows. Even his shrill demands beat the oppressive silence of the house. He rarely came up here now. Sometimes when he needed the change of scenery. Sometimes when Gaz was up here. One of them, anyway. He'd never realized how dependant he'd been on the background noise of the tv or the game slave until it was absent.

Steady thumps punctuated Zim's voice for a few minutes while Dib sat, still and silent, drinking up the familiar sound. Abruptly it halted, causing the faintest of frowns to crease the teens brows.

".... Dib - human?"

Spoken softer this time, concern and fear whining through the quiry. It had been a while since he'd answered.. a week? Longer? It was hard to track time without any concept of day or night. With precious few variations to mark out the passage of time. Long enough to worry the alien silent outside. Dib drew in a weary breath and stood, walking stiffly to the door, turning and dropping to his butt, back smacking against the wooden panels.

"Zim.."

Geez.. was that his voice? Croaky and quieter than he intended. Rusted up from disuse he supposed. He remembers when he used to talk so much that sometimes he'd have to check he wasn't talking when he was thinking of something. 

"Thank the Tallest.. DIB, YOU SCA- HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME FOR SO LONG! ROTTEN, INCONSID-"

"Sorry. Sorry, Zim."

He wasn't really sure why he was apologising but he didn't want him to keep shouting. And he didn't want him to storm off. Having someone who cared enough to physically check on him, to talk to him (well, at him, usually) every day was a precious thing. Zim's rant faltered back into silence for a moment before he began speaking again. Calmer this time, complaining about the inconvenience of his visits, scolding him for behaving 'like a sulky smeet', telling him how fortunate he was to still have the amazing Zim dedicate his time to this nonsense.

As he spoke he began posting the snacks through the letterbox. Dib accepted each meekly, offering no defense to the scolding. It was pretty standard Zim fare though. He didn't really talk about anything else, he was too egocentric really to care. It was okay though, Dib didn't much care for the rest of the world anyways. The only reason he knew Zim wasn't now unopposed ruler, is that he was sure Zim would have brought it up himself if it had happened. He'd asked, once. Why he was visiting instead of invading. Zim hadn't come back for a week. Dib was too terrified of the risk of him never coming back to ask again. He supposed it didn't matter. They'd always had an oddly symbiotic relationship, perhaps his absence had been the catalyst. Wouldn't it be funny if he'd saved the planet by just.. giving up defending it?

"Dib-beast.. this is very frustrating. You are behaving shamefully by neglecting your human duties! And I am tiring of these one-sided conversations. Tomorrow you will come outside with Zim and we will go somewhere we can.. eat and.. do that social thing. That humans do. Otherwise I will remove the city energy source and I know you will not have fixed your household generator."

Well, crap. He was right. The last time he'd managed to break in he'd managed to disable the miniature version of P.E.G his father had installed for his labs. How he'd managed without destroying the house was still a mystery he'd refused to explain. Something about smeet's play and creating infinite energy absorbers before he was even born. Whatever -that- meant. Dib worried at a nail anxiously as his mind darted around his options. His project would not be ready to be woken for at least 48 hours. He could probably fix the stupid generator, he was his father's son after all, but he didn't think he had access to any files on it and 24 hours to figure it out and repair it would be tricky even if he wasn't exhausted. He wasn't letting him inside the house.. there was no way.. But then.. he hadn't asked to come in. He could be outside waiting tomorrow. Was he really ready to see the outside world again after so long? Did he really have a choice?

"I.. O-okay Zim."


	2. Chapter 2

After Zim had left, Dib had retreated back down into the labs. The social interaction had been exhausting and the prospect of tomorrow left him anxious and moody. He definitely wasn't in any mood to risk another encounter with his dad.

He drags a chair over to sit by the glass chamber housing project 63 and tucks himself into it. Drawing his legs up to his chest, he slung his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. As small as he could make himself, he pressed against the machinery as though seeking reassurance. The fluid inside was kept at human core temperature and lent a comforting warmth, as well as being the only light source in the room. Tilting his head to rest against the glass directly, he closed his eyes. Sometimes he liked to sit in here like this. He pretended he was 2 again and resting his head against his mother's stomach to feel his little sister inside. Well. He didn't actually remember doing that but.. he thought he would have done it. Would have been excited about the prospect of a new sibling. Someone to be friends with, to protect against monsters, to talk to. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt lonely.

With a sigh and grunt, he forced himself to straighten out, pushing his glasses up and running his hands over his face. He should really get ready for tomorrow. He should think about tomorrow, even. Pausing, he hooks a thumb under his shirt collar and sniffed cautiously before grimacing. Apparently living in a subterranean laboratory for weeks did not particularly benefit personal hygiene regimes. He should shower. And try to sleep. 

Regaining his feet took more energy than he felt like it really should. He brushed a hand near.. Gaz's face gently in apology for leaving before heading back upstairs. He felt uneasy leaving her unguarded for such a long period but the clones were always the most stable at this stage. As long as he kept Zim away from the machinery keeping her alive she should be fine. 

Although bed beckoned temptingly, he veered in the direction of the bathroom first. Scratching idly at his faintly-stubbled cheek he considers shaving, while he hadn't quite gotten around to growing enough facial hair to warrant it but he decided to anyway. He imagines it a little like 'a big deal'. His triumphant return to the outside world! He grins crookedly for a moment before stepping inside, gaze flickering around to check he still had the right toiletries. Some were a little dusty from disuse but he still had a few spare bottles in his closet from his hoarded supplies the last time he'd been out. At least he brushed his teeth every day, he justified, screwing up his nose at his greasy, messy hair and the dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't think he can do much about those unfortunately. With a faint, disgusted huff he turned on the taps and made a start on his personal grooming.

Nearly a full hour later he padded into his bedroom. Clean shaven, smelling of blueberries (or so the shampoo bottle claimed) and feeling cleaner and brighter than he had in a very long time. Odd how much of an inpact skipping out the small things could have without even really being noticed. After all, it wasn't like he didn't have more important things to worry about than when he'd last done laundry, or changed, or trimmed his hair.. But it felt good for being done. He felt more human. He'd have to try harder to remember to take care of himself beyond the bare minimum to survive and work on his projects.

Oddly he also felt more awake now, even though he's probably snatched no more than a dozen hours of sleep in the last week. Glancing around his untidy room, he decides to take advantage of the unexpected energy by changing his bed and doing a load of laundry. Sitting on the edge of the bed in slightly-too-small pyjamas with alien spaceships zooming all over the material, Dib stares at his bare feet in fascination. Curling and uncurling his toes under his watchful amber gaze. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his bare feet - normally sleep was snatched where he sat or lay in the lab or occasionally on the couch or bed, but even on those occasions he was often so exhausted he couldn't even manage the effort to toe off his boots and since he very rarely went out didn't feel too guilty sleeping in them. Same with his coat.

Eventually though he forces himself to sit up straight, walking to turn off the light by the door then shuffling back to lie down. He pulls the comforter over himself and lies in the dark, staring at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. He could remember putting them up with his dad when he was much younger, perched on his shoulders as he gleefully worked out how to map out actual constellations with the cheap plastic. His father had seemed both pleased and impressed he already had so many constellations memorised and could relate them to eachother by position.  He'd thundered he was raising the next astrophysicist or astronautical genius. Dib had never been so in favour and he'd thrilled in his father's approval.

Dib realises he is smiling, feeling it fade slightly as his attention returned to the present. Rolling onto his side he scrunched his eyes shut, eyebrows drawn down in a pinched frown. When was the last time his dad had been proud of him? 

Snapping his eyes open, he shoved back the comforter, slipping on a pair of slippers. Walking through the house in the dark, he made it upstairs to the area that'd been built on to encourage his interest in astronomy, a square balcony of sorts with a few plants scattered about. He didn't have his binoculars or telescope with him but he can lie on his back to stare up at the hundreds of stars visible to the naked eye despite the cities light pollution muting many of them. The air out here is much cooler, and he shivers slightly but isn't tempted to go back inside. Another passion he'd sacrificed somewhere along the way in his desperate pursuit for something more than the circumstances of his life. 

He blamed the cool air as his eyes watered slightly, gathering at the corners until dense enough to roll free when he blinks. He definitely isn't going to sniff though. That was a little too close to admitting he was crying instead of simply getting a little too dry eyed under the light breeze of the night air. So he blinked away the tears in silence, terribly aware of the quietness of a sleeping city and the absolute silence of his own home. No father up late experimenting or making toast with the loud, self important dialogues to himself that Dib had inherited along with the gravity defying hair. No sister playing another round of her game in her room with a low volume cd whisper-screaming to drown out the game in case dad was in a parental mood and decided to check that his kids were in their rooms. No live feed of Zim muttering and cursing as he made plans or built things Dib would likely force to blow up within the week. It wasn't as if any of these things had happened recently, the silence hanging over the house like a shroud had been there for a while. It.. it was just less noticeable when he was busy. Not thinking about it.

Dib stayed out on the balcony until the tears stopped, wet skin frozen and cold enough that he is barely shivering anymore, simply numb. Eventually he rolls to get to his feet, stepping to the waist height wall surrounding it, bracing his weight on locked arms as he peers out at dark houses. Rarely does he feel so.. defeated. Once he'd believed he could save the entire planet from a massive alien armada, despite significant military advancements and greater technological advantages. Had it just been his own childish arrogance that told him he could accomplish something so extraordinary when life soon taught him that he couldn't even save his own family? 

.... had his determination to be someone extraordinary been the factor that'd allowed him to miss the signs until it was too late? Guilt was a familiar companion by now but he curls his fingers to dig uncomfortably into the painted plaster under them as it washed over him, particularly potent in the wake of his grief.

Closing his eyes to take several steadying breaths, Dib stiffened his spine and forces his hands to release their white knuckle grip. One step back, then another. He swept a brief, longing gaze over the neighbourhood, seeking the comfort of a light, a dog walker.. anyone to ground him, assure him he was still here amongst others and not entirely adrift as he felt. But he was disappointed and eventually turns away completely, heading back to his room and bed.

Crawling under the comforter, he pulls it around himself until he could create a heat filled cocoon to thaw out inside, eyelids drooping. Exhaustion tugging him ever closer to sleep and Dib clung to the thought that he would spend tomorrow with Zim, someone who, even now, actively sought his company. He wouldn't be alone tomorrow. It would be better, tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I appreciate Dib isn't quite IC atm, hopefully he'll be more himself as he goes along, but I really wanted to create this story primarily from his thoughts and perspective of a difficult tragedy. Plus who doesn't love some good old angst? Apologies for the late update, thank you to those still reading! (Also I'm a little out of practise writing so I apologise for slipping in and out of tenses!)


End file.
